


Haunted Warehouse

by kabrox18



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: D.Va and Mercy find a ghost in an old warehouse.





	

Hana turns and puts a quick five shots into some goon. She’s almost ready to call up another mech, which she’s thankful for. Heels click behind her and she turns lightning-fast, only to see the pleasant porcelain face of Dr. Ziegler.

“D.Va, is everything alright?”

“I'm doing good for now. A few scrapes and bumps but I'm okay.” She smiles, typical pep in her voice.

“Good to hear!” They both move in after the good doctor patches up the minor wounds, small pistols at the ready. The majority of the team’s off and busy--the two of them are alone on this deployment. 

They come into a large room, the main area of some nondescript building neither know the name of. They have to work through here to get to their objective. So far, there's been no issues. The odd Talon cronie here and there but no real force yet.

That means there's a high-ranking agent here.

The sounds of their footsteps are sharp against the concrete, echoing off the walls. Both stop about midway through the room, high ceilings almost invisible in the blue-black of the American nighttime.

“Something wrong Doc?” The younger asks, having almost run headlong into Ms. Ziegler.

“I feel watched,” she murmured, clearly on edge because of the dark.

“I don't have any flashlights besides this little one. What about your staff?” Angela nodded and pulled it off her back, a warm glow of gold pooling at their feet and a few feet forward. Just enough to send a mouse and some insects skittering to find more darkness. Hana made a face and shook her head, looking up to Mercy. At least she looked a bit more relaxed.

They continued walking, empty shipping containers looming large in the shadows. There were plenty of places for enemies to pop out, but none did.

“Is this easy mode?” Hana wondered aloud, a smirk on her face as she checked her mech status. Almost ready, just a couple more minutes. It brought a warm chuckle from the doctor at her side, who shrugged, suit wings shifting and clicking gently.

“I suppose so! We haven't seen one Talon worker since I met up with you.”

Neither see the thick black smoke oozing out of a nearby vent in heavy globs, gathering at the cold floor before slithering close. Angela stiffens at the sound of hushed, breathy whispering, like a sigh that doesn't taper off. It gets  _ louder _ and she steps closer to Hana, eyes wide. The Korean girl looks surprised--Mercy always seems to be calm and focused, even in the thick of a wild, deadly battle.

“Doctor Ziegler?” The elder does nothing but switches off her staff, motioning for her to be quiet. The dark seems to press in, and there's a hollowed-out hum behind them. Whatever the source of the noises is comes in front of them, settling and changing with a faint sound.

Slightly above Hana’s head, the doctor breathes out a word--no, a name.

“Gabriel?”

“That man is dead. You didn't bring him back well enough.”

“I'm sorry. I tried, but the technology was new-”

“I’m not here to chit-chat, Ziegler.” The voice is low, foreboding and dangerous. D.Va holds her pistol up toward the white mask that’s little more than a faint outline in the dark.

“Can you turn the lights on again Doc? I'll take him out for you.”

“Please don't.” The words are barely a whisper, but the light is back, golden color swathing the monster in front of them. The staff flickers as if it's on the fritz and the person chuckles mirthlessly, a deep rumble of a noise that makes Hana shiver. It looks like someone who had a gift card for that one store--Hot Topic, or whatever it was called. They didn't have them in Korea but she knew it from the Internet, more or less.

“Reyes, I'm sorry-”

“I told you, that man is dead.” The voice isn't a threat. It's apathetic, uncaring, empty--truly devoid of emotion. “Again. I'm not here to talk. I'm here to take you both with me.”

“Where?” D.Va snaps, less a question and more a demand.

“That's not of your interests, brat.” There's the threat. It's sharp like those claws, intimidating like the way he holds himself. He may look like some cheap loser but the black hollow eyes of that mask play off the animal-fear that lingers in the human brain. It makes her feel cold when it turns her way, regarding her with disinterest. “Either you come willingly, or I use force.” The apathy is back, dry and hard to swallow.

“We’ll come.” Ziegler says, almost instantly--she casts a sidelong glance to Hana, who purses her lips, eyebrows furrowing as she huffs something under her breath. It sounds Korean.

“Good to hear.” He says, turning and walking. He only pauses to look back at them and ensure they are both following.

As soon as they get outside, D.Va pulls the doctor down slightly, mouthing out  _ mech _ almost inaudibly. Angela nods, trotting forward to give her room and keep their new “friend” from getting suspicious. The MEKA is quick and easy to climb into, movements practiced as the guy whirls around, watching them. He looks as if he was just alarmed at the noise--the sight of the mech itself doesn't seem to faze him. Instead, he snorts, shaking his head and folding his arms.

“Predictable,” he comments coolly, voice never shifting tone. This guy was a professional, probably not the Talon agent they were looking for. Talon was a bunch of bumblers and it was really a surprise the group had come to any sort of power. Toppling the greatest peacekeeping organization in human history did that for you, Hana mused to herself; she kept watching this guy stare at them expectantly, as if waiting for them to lay down and die for him.

“Think Talon still wants them?” He says, seemingly to no one. He waits a moment, making a vague noise and turning away. “Fine. Meet me up high, Spider.” Angela’s face crinkles up at that, perfect paper rumpled in curiosity and annoyance. The man waves dismissively, saying nothing for a moment. “It's been fun,” is all he says, unnaturally smoky black-purple fire twisting up. He dips into it, and is gone.

“Who was he?” Hana finally asks, cutting the half-silence in two.

“Gabriel Reyes.” The doctor sounds depressed, weak and saddened by something.

“The original commander of Overwatch?” The textbooks in her history classes told of him, treating him as some untouchable legend that was shattered by greed.

“Yes. That's why he knew me.” She brushes her flaxen bangs away, eyes hooded against the cold night air.

“I see.”

“We need to get going,” is all Mercy says after the pause, turning toward the girl tucked in her mech.


End file.
